You had something
I was craving for,
I lust after
that juicy flesh
in between
your
ears.
Your brain
my dear.
For you see,
I'm a zombie.
A zed, one of the walking dead,
not like those rage filled guys.
I’m more Shawn of the dead
than 28 days later.
I just shuffle along,
not a new trend setter,
nor in any haste,
I just want brains.
I like the way they taste.
But I love to get my teeth
into some
moist,
succulent,
brains.
I was surprised
I'll admit
and at first
its hard to find
the right etiquette,
it all made me feel
a bit sick,
but once you've
acquired the taste
you would never
try a different dinner.
Though McDonald's
do seem
shockingly similar.
It makes people a bit
squeamish, nauseous,
to see us eat. I've tried to be polite.
No one wants grey matter
splattering their dinner plate.
I wear a bib,
and bring a knife
and fork with me.
I've even taken
to cooking mine first.
Brains taste
so much better that way.
I amble and stumble
most of the time,
I don't have to be anywhere,
there isn't much call
for zombies in the workforce.
To be fair, there isn't much call
for zombies at all.
Though I'm sure the Tories
are trying to find a purpose for us,
just to get us off benefits of course.
It isn't so bad,
hanging with the crew.
The conversation is dull
but no one else judges you.
We just shuffle through
the streets and towns.
Across the hills.
Over the downs.
We will see you soon I'm sure,
as you claw at your front door
trying to escape the dreaded roar,
of this zombie wave.
Searching in vain
to find any brains that remain,
in this backwater stain
on the universal plain.
Thanks for reading
Please take a look at my new collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
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